Fuck blogs!

Apparently I'm a blogger now. Well fuck me with the working end of a staple remover. I think this officially makes me an angst-filled teen; missed the boat on that one by a decade or so. Oh well. I feel bad leaving my opening blog with nothing, but that's the whole point of a blog isn't it? Fuck it, one joke and then you can all go to hell (I'll be mixing drinks!):

I'm jealous of my friend's job. He works at a religious tolerance center. He gets 67 holidays a year.

A'ight (is this the proper spelling of "a'ight?"), I'll see you around maybe; probably not, but one can hope.

Oh, and as always, all content of whatever I'm drunk enough to write remains copywrite Sam Pollach, whatever year this happens to be (2008 if I recall correctly). So if you steal my material, I will pursue you via the courts (by which I mean screaming in a ski mask with a stale loaf of bread and some rancid brie).